


The Winters Of Our Content

by Eryis



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Christmas, Flirting, Fluff, Gift Fic, Hopefully Adorable, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Men in love, Multiple chapters, Passes Through Many Years, Romance, Snow, Winter, so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eryis/pseuds/Eryis
Summary: Everyone had a favourite season. For teachers Jean Kirsten and Marco Bodt, their favourite season is winter. Not because of the snow, nor the holidays. No, for them winter is their favourite season for one simple reason. It was on a cold winters day when their relationship began and, from that point, winter had always been an important and special season for them both.





	1. The Season Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowd00dles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowd00dles/gifts).



> Hi. This is a gift for Rainbowd00dles and part of the JeanMarco Christmas gift exchange. I liked both of your prompts, so I mingled them together and perhaps got a little bit carried away. I really hope you enjoy it and it's as good as you hope. Happy reading ^.^

****

 

**Chapter One – The Season Begins**

**~~~~~**

 

"You know it's your own fault, right?"

Jean narrowed his eyes. Ha placed the red pen on a half-marked essay and slowly looked up to Sasha, who was stuffing her face with whatever odd combination of food she had decided she wanted for lunch that day. Sasha grinned at Jean, not at all affected by the glare that she was receiving.

"Is it, Sasha?" Jean mumbled sarcastically, before looking back to the stack of still unmarked essays on the desk. "I thought it was magic procrastination pixies."

Both teachers were in the staff lounge, sitting at a circular table beside the drinks machine. Jean, who taught history, was occasionally taking a bite of his sandwich as he marked the stack of essays he'd scattered across the table. Sasha, a food-tech teacher, had decided to make it her goal to taunt him about his lack of organisational skills and to eat inexplicably loud food while she did it. Jean didn't know for sure she was doing it on purpose, but he'd known her long enough to know it was likely.

He couldn't exactly complain, really. As Sasha had said, it was his own fault that he was hunched over his student's essays, rushing to mark them all before his lunch hour ended. He had always left marking things to the last minute and he always found himself in situations like this. He probably should have learned by now, but he hadn't.

"That would explain why this keeps happening." Sasha grinned.

Jean's eyes flickered up to Sasha in annoyance, but he didn't reply. He was determined to finish his marking all by the end of the lunch period. Partly because his class wanted them, and he was determined to be a good teacher who didn't let his students down. Partly because the last time principle Levi sat in on his lessons, something he did once a month, he noticed the large pile of unmarked work Jean hid behind his desk and hadn't been the ecstatic with the revelation.

It wasn't that Jean was a bad teacher, far from it, he was just a bit unorganised. His classes always got high grades; as far as he knew, no students hated him; and he'd almost been promoted to head of history, until a cynical old trout claimed he was too young for a senior position. The governors all agreed as, they too, were cynical old trouts.

Jean saw the logic. It must be easier to teach about the stone age if you lived through it!

"Look on the bright side. At least you don't have to clean a food lab covered in ruined, crappy pizza all on your own," Sasha continued, before musing wistfully. "All that wasted food."

"Stop calling it a food lab, it's a crappy old cooking room and you know it." Jean mumbled, squawking when the other teacher kicked his shin under the table. Some of the older staff members looked towards them in disapproval at the noise.

"And for that, you don't get the joy of my company." Sasha grinned as she stood up. She patted Jean on the shoulder as she dumped her empty food bag in the trash can. "Have fun with your essays."

"Have fun teaching a lesson that only exists to fill a space in the timetable." Jean grinned as he spoke, laughing when Sasha punched him in the back of his head. "See you later, Sash."

"Later piss-stain."

Sasha soon left the teacher's lounge, leaving Jean to his work. He sighed as his eyes scanned the essay before him, noticing the student had misspelled 'Elizabeth' on the first line. As this was an analysis on Queen Elizabeth I, it didn't fill Jean with confidence.

With a somewhat self-indulgent sigh, Jean leant forward and began to scan through the essay as quickly as he could. He occasionally paused, leaving a small note in the margin wherever there was a grammar or spelling error, sometimes leaving little remarks or posing questions that would hopefully help improve the students grade. They may not have been the best class in terms of grades, but they obviously wanted to do well, and he was intending to help in any way he could.

As he placed a now marked piece of work on the finished pile and swapped it out for a new one, he yawned loudly. He had intended to visit a nearby coffee shop for his caffeine fix during his free period, but the cynical old trout had called in sick so Jean covered his lesson. That meant he lost his free period, morning coffee and the other hour he had planned for marking.

He'd considered using the drinks machine to get some coffee, but everything that came from there always tasted like a weird mix of metal and cardboard. Jean wasn't a hipster, despite Sasha's insistence that all he needed was a plaid shirt and glasses to be one, but he was particular about what he drunk and wouldn't sully his tongue with the crap that machine made.

Although, at the rate he was going, he'd have to put a documentary on in his last lesson and try and sneak a nap behind his desk.

He blinked, forcing himself to focus on the work before him. He grabbed his bottle of water and gulped down a large amount of it, hoping it would wake him up enough so that he could understand what the poorly written sentence meant. After re-reading it three times, he managed to realise what his student was trying to say and wrote small note beside it, telling them that they should try restructuring it to make it easier on the eyes.

Too engrossed in the essay, Jean hadn't noticed Marco Bodt, one of the only other young teachers in the school, walk into the teacher's lounge and towards him. He was a gym teacher, well liked by students and staff alike. He grinned as he walked towards Jean, who was hunched over his work with squinting eyes.

"You look constipated." The gym teacher grinned as he spoke, taking the seat Sasha had just left.

Jean placed his pen down again, looking up to see Marco grinning at him widely. The history teacher narrowed his eyes, though found himself fighting a grin at Marco's infectious smile. Upon seeing this, Marco chuckled.

The two had been close since Jean's first day at the school. Their homeroom classes were sat close together in the weekly assemblies and, when he noticed Jean looking a little nervous, Marco struck up a conversation with him. Three months later, the two young teachers were often found talking and laughing together during their lunch breaks and shared free periods. Sasha joined often, when her schedule allowed, but most of the time it was just the two of them.

Marco looked down to the papers decorating the table, rolling his eyes slightly. He took a seat at the table and placed his lunch in front of him, a small tub of smoking pasta covered in baked beans and chicken. It wasn't something Jean would eat, but he'd noticed that Marco ate it every other day, so it must have been at least palatable.

"You know, I'm pretty sure the chemist down the street sells laxatives. I can get some if you want." Marco continued, still grinning.

"Well, with your comedic talent, I'm sure I'll laugh so hard it'll just fly out of me." Jean replied, sarcasm practically palpable.

"Give me a warning, I've got a bag of unwashed kit in my car, it'll block out the smell." Marco chuckled, looking down at the two piled of essays with a frown. "I thought you were getting better at marking."

"I am. Well, I was," Jean sighed. "Trout face is skipping again so I lost my free period."

Marco nodded in understanding. Jean often had to cover the head of history's lessons, the older teacher having a habit of skipping a day whenever the mood struck him. Sometimes Hanji would cover instead of Jean, but they taught geography and biology as well as history, so their timetable was usually filled up.

The table fell into a gentle silence, the soft murmur of gossiping teachers and the scraping of Jean's pen on the essays the only thing Marco could hear. The gym teacher watched Jean as he ate, half impressed with the dedication he was showing to his students, half glad that teaching gym required so little paperwork and admin in comparison. He grinned at the expression on Jean's face, the history teacher still looked slightly constipated as he worked.

After finishing his pasta and placing the paper tub in the trash, Marco absentmindedly picked up a marked essay and scanned it. He had noting planned for lunch other than talking to Jean, but as that wasn't going to happen he might as well entertain himself.

Jean's eyes flittered up when he noticed the action, watching with slight curiosity as Marco scanned through his student's work. The history teacher looked down to the essay he was marking, deciding it was better to let the other man entertain himself than to fight it.

"I wrote my dissertation on Queen Elizabeth the first." Marco commented as he turned the page on the essay he'd picked up. Jean looked up at him in confusion.

"You told me you took Sports-Science at college."

"As my major, yeah. Took a minor in historical politics. It was fun." Marco smiled, placing the essay back on the pile.

"Sorry, you took a history subject and didn't tell me? After three months of knowing me." Jean placed his pen down, feigning shock. "All these secrets, Marco. Well that's the last straw, I want a divorce."

"Fine, I get custody of Reiner. He's one of the best in my rugby team." Marco grinned.

"Sure, I get Bertholdt though."

"And split them up? You monster!" Marco placed a hand on his chest. "And, honestly, he's just as good as Reiner on the field. Sometimes better if he's in the right mood."

"Bertholdt, really?" Jean chuckled at the thought. "I can't picture that, he's too calm."

"How d'you think he manages that?" Marco grinned. "He tackles the hell out of anyone who annoys him. Seriously, come watch a game one day, the two of them are pretty much impossible to get past."

"I might, remind me when you've got a game next." Jean smiled, picking his pen up to start marking again. "But you took history?"

Marco nodded as he stood up again, slipping some coins into the old drinks machine and ordering a coffee. He sat back down as it began to gurgle into life, knowing the rusty machine would take a while to get him his drink.

"Historical politics, yeah." Marco smiled again. "Really enjoyed it actually. I always preferred the kind of lessons where you get to debate and analyse things over the STEM subjects, they always seemed too constrained. I thought about doing English instead of History, but I looked at the reading list and I don't think I could have handled that much Shakespeare and Jane Austen. I'm glad I didn't, the lectures were great."

"Why'd you stop if you enjoyed it so much?"

"Wasn't where my real passion was, I guess." Marco grinned. "Part of the reason I liked it so much was because I didn't have the same pressure to do well that I did with sports science. And my professor, Erwin, was great. Cliché, inspiring music over montage of his lectures great. But, you know how it goes, if I took it any further I'd probably be stuck with someone monotone who didn't care and all my enthusiasm would just plummet."

Jean nodded, looking back down to his essays. Marco kept an eye on the drinks machine, watching as it haphazardly spurted coffee into the paper cup, droplets of the drink dripping down the side of it. They really needed to convince Levi to replace that. Or to at least let them take a kettle so they could make drinks themselves.

Again, the table descended into a comfortable quietness, this time the sound of the drinks machine filling the space. Jean winced when a few drops of stray coffee landed near the essay of quite an OCD student. How the coffee managed to make it from the counter to the table, Jean didn't know. He thought it best not to think about it, instead opting to move the stack of essays away from the splash zone.

As he did this, a thought struck him. He placed the pile of work down, sat up straight and looked towards Marco.

"If you took history in college, why the hell is it always me covering for trout face instead of you?" Jean glared slightly. Marco was more qualified than the random cover teachers they tried to palm off on the kids.

"That might probably be because hardly anyone here knows I studied it." Marco grinned.

"Why?"

"Well, I heard a rumour that one member of the history department had a habit of bunking off whenever he could. So, I thought 'I don't want to cover for him all the time' so I kept it quiet, that way nobody would consider me to cover his lessons." Marco grinned widely at Jean. "Besides, I've heard great things about the guy who usually does the cover lessons. And I'm sure he loves all the extra, unpaid work he gets."

Jean glared at Marco. "You know I'm gonna tell Levi, right?"

"Are you?" Marco grinned cockily. "Because I took track and wrestling through high school and college, never got below the top three in any competition I was in either. But if you think you can get to Levi without me stopping you, feel free."

Jean rolled his eyes, knowing that Marco was right. He'd let the matter settle… until he got back to his classroom where he'd email Levi, of course.

With a smile, Marco decided to pull a pen from his pocket. He grabbed a handful of the unmarked essays from the pile and brought them closer to him. After placing the essay at the top of the pile before him, he stood up and walked over to the drinks machine, picking up the nearly overflowing drink. He noticed Jean watching him with a frown on his face.

"What? I sat through the meeting on how to properly mark work, I've written enough about Queen Lizzy to get by and, unless you're secretly The Flash, you won't finish before lunch ends." Marco chuckled. "Consider this my payment for your silence on my qualifications."

"You sure? Marking literally is hell on earth." Jean asked, shrugging when Marco nodded. "Fine, as long as all the long sentences don't hurt your brain. You'll need that so you can tell kids how to properly throw rubber balls at each other."

"One more wisecrack from you, Kirstein, and you'll be running laps in your underwear." Marco grinned back when Jean laughed.

They both began to focus on the work before them again, Marco not quite as fast as Jean was but managing to make good time. The freckled coach occasionally sipped at the drink, Jean grimacing in disgust every time he noticed it. Honestly, how Marco managed to swallow the disgusting beverage was beyond him.

Upon reading one essay, Marco had to stop. He frowned slightly, re-read the paragraph and then glanced down at some of the other essays that he'd already marked. After his thoughts had been concerned, he began to laugh. Jean looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Apparently Queen Elizabeth the first, who died just over four hundred years ago, recently celebrated her ninety-first birthday in April. She also appeared in the twenty-twelve Olympics opening ceremony." Marco laughed, Jean closing his eyes in exasperation. "You know, I'm glad someone's finally brought this up. Too many dead people think that, just because their heart stopped beating, they can just be lazy. It's nice to know she's still active."

Jean didn't share Marco's amusement, picking up the essay with a sigh as he read through it. Upon seeing Marco wasn't lying, he quietly mumbled. "You actually googled the wrong queen."

Marco cackled, deciding to let Jean choose how he wanted to approach that particular essay as he picked up another one from the pile. The new piece of work was already an improvement, given that it actually focused on correct person.

The two began to focus on marking again, Marco absently noticing Jean's mannerisms when he was working. When an essay was good, Jean would nibble on the end of his pen and have a small, almost proud smile on his face. When an essay wasn't good, he would continually shake his head, tut and keep his pen poised for corrections and notes in the margins. Marco saw a lot more of the tutting and head shaking than he did the pen chewing. Still, both were quite endearing in the gym teacher's eyes.

When Jean leant back on his chair to stretch and look at the clock to see how long he had left, he caught a glimpse of Marco as he sipped the steaming coffee. When he saw the gym teacher's freckled face contort into a grimace, Jean had to roll his eyes. Why the stubborn man insisted on drinking that crap, he didn't know; he could easily get a caffeine fix from an energy drink if he needed one.

'Maybe I should get some Red Bull or something.' Jean mused in his head.

With another yawn from Jean, he looked down to his marking. He immediately frowned when he looked at the first, opening paragraph where the student had introduced who Queen Elizabeth I was. He had to laugh, running a hand through his hair. Marco looked up at him with curious amusement.

"According to Thomas, she was called the 'Virgin Queen' as an ironic name because secretly, she 'got a lot of action.' He's actually starting an essay by insinuating that she was a whore." Jean shook his head in amusement and astonishment.

"I hope there's a citation, I'd love to see that source." Marco grinned, looking back down to the essays again.

"I'll let you know when I finish." Jean chuckled.

With a wide smile, Marco nodded and began to mark the essay in front of him. Thankfully, this student seemed to care about their grade as their essay was well researched and they'd obviously put a significant amount of effort into it. Marco began to hum slightly as he worked, not noticing Jean's amused smile as the history teacher listened to the impromptu and gentle tune his friend was making.

Jean leant back in his chair after glancing at the clock. With both of them marking at the rate they were, it'd be done with time to spare. The history teacher picked up the sandwich that had only been nibbled at, thankful that Marco continued to mark his work when he saw this. The history teacher's mouth opened wide in an audible yawn, small bags under his eyes now visible. Marco looked up at the sound of the yawn, smiling.

"Tired?" He teased.

"Little bit." Jean smiled back. "Couple next door were arguing again, hardly got any sleep."

"Sounds fun." Marco smiled, picking up his cup of coffee and motioning to Jean with it. "Want some, it'll perk you up."

"You sound like my mom." Jean chuckled. "And I'll pass. Because, and I really do mean this, I'd rather die of thirst."

"Aw, it's not that bad."

The hesitance in Marco's voice told Jean even he wasn't confident in what he had said. Marco was one of only few teachers working at the school who used the drinks machine, most people had decided that one taste of the drinks it offered was enough and used the vending machine or brought in in something themselves. Jean didn't know why Marco continued to use it, most likely out of stubbornness, but the history teacher was certain his friend gave the damn thing more than half the money it made.

"Besides." Marco continued. "You look like you're gonna fall asleep before we finish. And I know who you're teaching at the end of the day, if you fall asleep they'll draw all over your face."

"Why would they do that?"

Marco leant forward in his chair slightly, smiling mischievously. "Because I teach them just before you and I'll tell them to."

Jean rolled his eyes, though knew that Marco probably would do that if he was in the mood. Instead of continuing, Jean finished what remained of his sandwich and hunched over the desk, scanning the essay as quickly as he could and marking it. Marco did the same, not before placing the polystyrene cup next to Jean with an expectant expression.

The history teacher looked at it for a moment, then at Marco's face. The two held eye contact for a few seconds, Marco making it obvious he wasn't going to back down. Jean lifted the cup towards his face and sniffed it tentatively, Marco rolling his eyes and gesturing him to continue. With a grimace and a sigh, Jean looked down at it again before bringing it to his lips and throwing it down the back of his throat as if taking a shot.

At his expression, Marco began to laugh boisterously. Jean's face was contorted into a mixture of a cringe of disgust, regret at his actions and annoyance at Marco for making him do it. Marco grinned widely at him, trying to stop his laughter.

"If you consider that to be 'not that bad' then you must have burnt your taste buds off without realising." Jean grumbled, wishing he had left some of his sandwich to take the taste away.

"Honestly, the stuff I drink at home isn't much better. I guess I'm just used to it."

After speaking, Marco reached down to his bag and pulled out cereal bar he had forgotten to eat during the morning break. He handed it to jean, who accepted it with a thankful smile. After taking a large bite of the snack, which did wonders for removing the taste with the slightly tart strawberries, Jean looked to Marco with a frown.

"So you cant even have a nice cup of coffee when you're home?" He questioned.

"I guess not. When I moved out, I took the old percolator that my parents never used, and I've never had enough money to warrant replacing it." Marco explained. "I don't have coffee at home much anyway, apart from in the morning when I need it to wake me up. I mainly have tea or hot chocolate if I want something warm."

"So if you don't have it at home, when was the last time you actually had a real, drinkable cup of coffee?"

Marco thought for a moment, his head tilting ever so slightly as he thought back. After a moment, he answered. "The last week of high school."

If Marco had thought Jean pulled an odd expression when he drank the coffee, the history teacher's face must have looked like surrealist art when he heard Marco's reply. He was a mixture of disbelief, confusion and disgust at the idea that Marco was capable of doing such a thing. Marco chuckled at him, waiting for Jean to speak.

"You're twenty-five, you left high school at eighteen, right?" When Marco nodded, Jean seemed even more confused and disgusted. "How have you managed to be an adult for seven years and not once had good coffee?"

"Just did, I guess. In college, we lived close to a store that sold all types of tea, so I spent almost all the money I had for drinks in there. After I graduated, I got a job here and, as I said, didn't have any real reason to buy something new." Marco then grinned. "I thought about going to a coffee shop a few times, but they're always filled with students."

"Seven years." Jean repeated in disbelief. "Yeah, I'm going to have to divorce you."

"You know my terms." Marco grinned. "I don't see why it's such a big deal to you."

"Because coffee is basically a gift from heaven." Jean exclaimed, Marco rolling his eyes playfully. The action seemed to spur Jean. "See! If you actually knew how good it can taste, you wouldn't act like that."

The freckled coach simply chuckled again and placed the last essay on the finished pile, leaning back on the chair and stretching his leg. He smiled at Jean, amused at how agitated the other man seemed to be at his drinking tendencies. It was endearing. Of late, Marco found a lot of things Jean did endearing. Perhaps it was time to act on those feelings.

"Well, we got paid last week and I've not got any clubs to run today. If you can find me a coffee shop without any students to bother us, I'll happily be proven wrong."

"You're on." Jean grinned. "I'll take you to great little place near the library and you'll see what an idiot you're being."

"Okay then." Marco laughed gently. "It's a date."

Jean blushed slightly at the phrasing, looking up to Marco who was also somewhat reddened by what he had said. The two sat in silence, looking at each other before Marco spoke again, slightly quiet and almost nervous.

"If you want it to be, I mean."

"Er, yeah." Jean nodded. "I'd like that."

"Good. Me too." Marco practically beamed

The school bell rang loudly, telling them that they both needed to get to their lessons. Jean scooped up his essays, all now marked, as Marco waited for him. The two walked side by side down the corridor, occasionally glancing towards each other and smiling. They were still slightly red in the face, but seemed to be enjoying each other's silent company in the raucous hallways.

When they got to a fork in the corridor where they would have to leave each other, they both stopped. Marco smiled down at Jean before speaking.

"I guess I'll see you after class." Marco grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Course you are, you're finally gonna have a good drink after years of torturing your mouth."

"Yeah, that's definitely the only reason I'm excited." Marco chuckled, his face settling into a soft smile. "See you later, then."

"See you."

They both lingered for a moment before turning away from each other, walking to their respective lessons. Upon leaving the building and crossing the school yard to his classroom, Jean watched as the small flakes of snow fell from the sky and landed on the ground, disappearing when they did. He continued to walk, sporting both a smile and a blush. As he entered his classroom and placed the essays on their respective desks, he knew he'd be happy, satisfied, upbeat and awake for the rest of the day. And neither the coffee, nor the winter weather, had a damn thing to do with it.


	2. Heavy Snow

**Chapter Two – Heavy Snow**

**~~~~~~**

Looking outside the window, Marco found himself content with life. Outside, large flakes of snow were falling from the sky, landing on the ground and adding to the thick layer already there. It looked freezing, making him thankful that he was inside a small coffee shop, curled up in a sofa beside the window as he watched families, couples and groups of friends walk by.

This was why he liked winter so much. The world seemed to be just a little bit happier. Families seemed more willing to spend time with each other, people acted kinder to one another and the world just seemed more relaxed. It was as if the snow just made people forget about their worries.

"Here, sorry it took so long."

Marco looked up, soft smile widening when he heard his boyfriend's voice. Jean, who had been waiting at the counter for a while, placed two steaming mugs on the table and sat beside Marco, wrapping the other mans arm around his shoulder and nuzzling up to him. Marco grinned at the gesture, shuffling slightly to get into a more comfortable position and squeezing Jean's shoulder in a comforting way.

The two had been dating for almost exactly a year. As their actual anniversary had fallen on a school day, they chose to wait for the weekend to celebrate instead of having to work for half the day. Neither had known it would snow, but when they woke up and seen the white landscape, Marco had insisted they utilise it. They had spent the morning at the park, intending to have a walk but ending up having quite a competitive snowball fight; then they decided to have a walk around a nearby forest, enjoying the scenery and tranquillity; and now they had decided to take a rest at a coffee shop. The same coffee shop that Jean had taken Marco to on their first date.

"It's fine." Marco smiled, leaning forward and lifting the cup of cocoa to his lips. His eyes closed as he drank the warm, milky drink. He then spoke in a theatrical voice. "Thanks for braving the queue, my brave heroic knight."

"Knight? You treat me more like slave than a knight." Jean grinned, Marco placing the drink down before punching Jean's knee. "Don't beat me sir, I'll do better next time. Please don't get the whip."

"You know, you teach kids about slaves." Marco grinned. "You should know not to joke about them."

Jean grinned and rolled his eyes at Marco's grinning face, leaning up and planting a small kiss on his cheek. He then nuzzled closer, resting his head on Marco's shoulder as he looked out of the window. A man was dragging his daughter across the pathway in a sled, the little girl obviously enjoying herself. Jean idly wondered if he could convince Marco to drag him in a sled. He probably could.

Catching the slightly glazed over look in Jean's eyes, Marco grinned. The freckled coach enjoyed moments like this, where he could simply admire his boyfriend and appreciate the comfort the two shared with each other.

For Marco, this was the easiest relationship he'd been in. As they already knew each other from their time working together, they never had to deal with an awkward period of getting to know each other and the pressures of early dating didn't affect them. Although they did go on the romantic dates one would expect at the start of their relationship, they were just as likely to be found at each other's house, eating a pizza and watching a random movie or documentary. This balance of romance and friendship had carried on throughout their relationship and both were more than happy with it.

"We should have gone sledding." Jean commented when the father and daughter left his sight. "Do you have a sled?"

"No." Marco grinned slightly. "When I was younger, me and my uncle tried to use the lid of an old-fashioned trash can instead of a sled. It didn't work very well."

"What happened?" Jean questioned with a slight yawn, shuffling closer to Marco so he could hear the story. He'd heard stories about Marco and his uncle before, they all were pretty funny.

"Well, we went to this massive hill on a field near where we lived. It was a pretty popular place for sledding. I was around fifteen or something and we didn't want to disrupt the kids, so we went to a more secluded place. Nobody used it because it was kind of steep, don't know why he didn't stop me really. Anyway, I won't bore you with the details, but sleds have the ability to steer, trash lids don't. We ended up in a hedge, I had a nose bleed and Hannes dislocated his shoulder. And when I noticed that his arm wasn't facing the right way, I vomited on him."

Jean sniggered. His imagination focused on two things. One being Marco's usually serious lawyer uncle being covered in vomit and snow in a hedge. The other being Marco and Hannes walking back into Marco's house and explaining how Hannes had gotten in such a state and why Marco had a nose bleed to Marco's somewhat overprotective mother.

When Jean's sniggering subsided, the sofa became quiet again as the relaxed and watched the goings on of the street through the window. Jean continued to yawn as he melted against Marco, occasionally bringing his milky coffee to his lips to keep him awake. When Marco noticed that his boyfriend was close to falling asleep, he ran a hand through his hair and grinned down.

"You can sleep if you want to." Marco smiled, planting a kiss atop Jean's head. "I don't mind."

"No, it's fine." Jean smiled tiredly. "I'll wake up in a second."

Marco nodded, somewhat sceptically. The two had been through the same conversation multiple times, always ending with Marco carrying a very much asleep Jean into bed. Although, usually the conversation took place at one of their homes, so maybe the fact they were in public would change the outcome.

Deciding not to worry about it, Marco lifted the cocoa to his lips again and, now it had cooled down slightly, he took a larger gulp. The taste was fantastic, anything was from this place. So much so that, after his first time going to the coffee shop, Marco began to question how he had managed so many years with instant hot chocolate and coffee. Of course, he didn't admit he felt like this to Jean until a month into their relationship, claiming his cheap stuff tasted just as good so his boyfriend would get irritated at him. It had been fun while it lasted, even if it ended with Jean wearing possibly the smuggest expression humanly possible when Marco caved and admitted he preferred the coffee shop's beverages over his own.

As the two relaxed into the sofa, the snow outside began to grow heavier. Flakes fluttered around manically, landing on every available surface and clinging to any piece of clothing that they could. Still, the sun was shining through the clouds and was making every spec of snow glimmer.

Jean blinked slowly, fighting back another yawn as he resisted the urge to sleep. His tiredness was entirely Marco's fault. He was one the who had woken Jean up at six in the morning, on a Saturday no less. Yes, he was woken to breakfast in bed, a sunset and the sight of untouched snow on the field Marco's apartment overlooked, but he was still woken up at six in the damn morning!

Marco noticed Jean trying to keep himself awake and rolled his eyes. He began to play with his boyfriend's hair again, Jean looking up at him when he did.

"We can go home if you want. You can't have gotten more than four hours of sleep last night." Marco chuckled, Jean blushing slightly. It wasn't Jean's fault he wanted to watch the first of the snowfall and had kept himself awake to achieve that.

"I'm not tired." Jean denied despite all evidence contradicting him.

"Fine. But if you fall asleep, don't be surprised if your face gains a few new decorative attributes when you wake up." Marco grinned. "Specifically of the penis genre."

"Threatening to draw on my face? You know you did that almost exactly a year ago, right." Jean looked up to Marco, blinking back tiredness. "Well, you threatened to make the kids do it, buts its basically the same thing."

"What can I say? I'm consistent and dependable. Basically, a rock, strong as one to." Marco grinned when Jean rolled his eyes. "You remember what we talked about that day?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously." Jean mumbled.

The conversation quietened again, Marco looking back out the window with a wide, most likely goofy smile on his face. His surprise didn't mean he thought Jean didn't care or wasn't romantic, but that comment was such a small part of the conversation that it would have been easy to forget it. It was nice to know that, not only did they both remember the date in great detail, they also remembered the conversation that lead to it.

Smile morphing into a content expression, Marco rested his cheek on the top of Jean's head, as he was still leaning on Marco's shoulder. The gym teacher's eyes fell on an elderly couple who were walking along the pathway, wrapped up in large coats but still looking happy with their gloves hands intertwined. Marco couldn't help but hope he and Jean would be like that, even if they had only been together for a year.

The freckled mans eyes widened slightly when he saw the woman of the couple pick up some snow from the outer ledge of a shop window and throw it at the mans face. Yeah, that was defiantly the type of relationship Marco wanted to end up in. He could see it happening with Jean.

When he looked down to Jean, slightly hoping to see he had been watching the same couple, he noticed his eyes were half lidded and head drooped slightly. With the smallest smile of amusement, Marco brought his finger to Jean's face and flicked his closed eye. Jean lurched forward slightly, made an undignified sound, that he wouldn't admit was a squeak, and looked to Marco with a partial glare.

"Seriously, lets go home." Marco grinned. "Because if you fall asleep, I'm not carrying you back."

"Why, because you might fall over again?" Jean teased despite his tiredness.

"I did not fall over." Marco almost grumbled. "I just slipped up slightly."

"And landed on your ass." Jean grinned, picking up his cup and bringing it to his lips. "But fine, let me finish this and we can go. Just because I don't want to wake up in the middle of the road on the floor because you fell over again."

Marco didn't reply, finding it hard to argue with that. He picked up his mug, gulping down the warm cocoa and sighing contently as the warm, gentle liquid filled his stomach. He placed the mug on the black tray they came on, watching as Jean gulped down his own drink and licked away the small bit of foam that had remained on his upper lip. Marco chuckled as he took the cup of him and put it on the tray.

Instead of leaving it on the table, Marco brought the tray to the counter, not wanting to give the workers of the coffee shop, who already seemed overworked. Once he abandoned the empty mugs, he walked back to Jean and smiled.

The two left the coffee shop and walked to the town park, as Jean's home was just opposite it. As they walked across the path, something caught Marco's eye. A large area of untouched snow right beside the path they were heading towards. A mischievous smile covered his face, glancing at Jean as they got closer to the thick layer of soft snow.

Without any warning, Jean found himself flailing in the air and falling face first into the snow-covered grass. Marco had pushed him! He hauled himself off the snow and looked at Marco, glaring at his boyfriend. Marco laughed at him, most likely because of all the snow covering his face.

"Oh no, Jean. You've fallen over." Marco was speaking in the most sarcastic voice possible. "Oh dear, I guess I'll just have to keep mentioning it at every possible moment for the rest of eternity."

Jean shook his head in disbelief as he lifted himself up with Marco's offered hand. He was half tempted to drag Marco into the snow, but he didn't want to stay in the cold hell for any longer than he had to. He wiped the snow off his coat and face before linking arms with Marco, looking up at him.

"You can smirk all you want. At least when I end up in the snow, it's because someone pushed me." Jean grinned. "When it happened to you, it was because you fell on your ass."

This time, as Jean was pushed into the snow again, he laughed.

* * *

Jean grinned as he watched Marco, the history teacher leaning on his kitchen counter as Marco stepped back to look at his work. Both men were in Jean's small bungalow, Jean heating up some milk for cocoa in a saucepan and Marco carefully decorating Jean's artificial Christmas tree with a mixture of his own decorations and a few new ones Jean had brought.

The couple had decided to decorate Jean's home together. The history teacher had only just moved in last year, and had spent most of the Christmas break with his parents, so hadn't seen it worthwhile to decorate. While it worked last year, it now left Jean with a small number of things to decorate his home with and absolutely no idea where to start with it. Marco, who was apparently a perfectionist with Christmas decorations, had been more than happy to offer his services.

"You do like it so far, right?" Marco asked, turning around with a hopeful expression on his face.

Looking at the tree, Jean knew it was better than whatever he could do. So far, Marco had carefully scattered golden lights evenly around the plastic tree, leaving no obvious gaps and giving it a small glow in the dark corner. It was also covered in long trails of golden-brown beads, drooping across the branches in even 'u' shapes. The top half of the tree had also been covered partially by a shimmering golden tinsel and, as Marco was holding another stream of it, Jean suspected the bottom half would soon be covered too.

Jean smiled at the sight, the decorations reminding him on how his parents' tree looked. He walked towards Marco and wrapped his arms around the coach's waist, grinning.

"It looks great." He spoke into Marco's back. "Exactly what I'd expect from my personal elf helper."

"I'm glad you like it." Marco smiled, turning around in Jean's grasp to look at him. "I expect payment for my services though."

With a slight shake of the head, Jean tilted his chin up and leant forward, pressing their lips together. Marco grinned and wrapped his own arms around Jean, slowly moving his lips into the chaste kiss. They remained in each other's arms for a short while longer, pulling apart with a satisfied and adoring expression painted onto both of their faces.

They did eventually break apart from each other's grasp when they both heard the sound of liquid bubbling. Jean cussed, walking to his stove and removing the pan filled with now bubbling milk form the flaming stove-top. He sighed, deciding that they'd just have to deal with the slightly too hot milk as his fridge was practically empty.

He really needed to get on top of his chores. And his marking. And a lot of things, really.

Carefully, Jean began to shake in some luxury cocoa powder into the milk and stirred it. He watched as Marco slowly twirled the tinsel around the rest of tree, managing to avoid the beads without even thinking. The coach had once told Jean that he took over tree decorating at his home as a child and his skills certainly proved it.

Jean placed the two steaming mugs of cocoa on his coffee table, patting Marco on the shoulder to alert the other man to his presence. He collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, planting his feet beside the drinks and groaning as he relaxed into the leather cushions. He was still tired because, despite them leaving the coffee shop so Jean could fall asleep, Marco the slave driver had insisted they decorate Jean's house by the end of the day. This was after Marco pushed him into the snow multiple times as well! Such a cruel man.

He was cute though, so it was okay.

"Where did you say you put the ornaments you brought?" Marco asked as he finished with the tinsel.

"Bedroom." Jean yawned. "On the bed."

Marco nodded and walked to Jean's bedroom, leaving the history teacher to sip at his cocoa and melt into his chair. He closed his eyes, half tempted to take the decorative blanket from off the other chair and wrap it around himself. He resisted the urge, placing his drink down and curling up on the sofa, letting the lights of the Christmas tree slowly fade and blur as he relaxed.

Now holding a large box of tree ornaments in his hands, Marco returned to the living room to see Jean with his eyes closed and chest rising slowly. He grinned, walking to the kitchen counter where a pair of wearable antlers had been placed and picking them up. He carefully slid them over Jean's head, stepping back and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He smirked as he took a picture of the adorable sight, wincing when the clicking sound filled the room.

"If that picture leaves your phone in any way, I will drown you in eggnog." Jean grumbled, eyes still closed.

"Not a bad way to go." Marco chuckled. "And I think a Christmas card with such a cute picture on the front is worth a beverage based death."

Jean opened his eyes slightly, glaring at Marco playfully before closing his eyes again. Marco grinned at his boyfriend's behaviour, looking down to the large box of nearly brought ornaments. He slowly began to empty the box, taking out every ornament that worked with the colour scheme of the tree and placing them on the unused chair besides the tree.

Not wanting to start this part of the decorating without Jean, Marco sat on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa beside Jean's legs. He reached for his drink, taking a cautious sip. He smiled, trying to decide whether or not he preferred this cocoa to the one he had at the coffee shop. It was a hard contest, Marco had found out very early in their relationship that Jean never made a drink that tasted bad. His cooking was a different story completely, but Marco could cook so, in a way, they completed each other.

He smiled at the thought, resting his head against Jean's thigh. Jean looked down and grinned, his hand wondering to Marco's head and mindlessly playing with his hair.

The two sat together quietly, listening to whatever random Christmas song Jean's Spotify playlist had chosen to play. Marco continued to drink his cocoa and Jean watched, quietly wondering how Marco could drink so much of the same drink in a single day. This had to be his forth mug, at least. Still, as long as the freckled man was happy, and not throwing up over anyone like he apparently did when he went sledding, Jean wasn't going to complain.

Without any noticeable cause, Jean began to chuckle. Marco looked up at him slightly, raising an eye at him with curiosity.

"Sorry, I just imagined a tiny version of you bossing your parents around and making them decorate your house in any way you want." Jean laughed, Marco blushing slightly at the admission. "From what I've heard, you were a little asshole when you were a kid."

"And what would make you say that?" Marco gasped, feigning offence.

"Sledding down a hill on a trash can lid, vomiting on family members and possibly being a dictator while you decorated the house." Jean listed, smiling. "And that's not mentioning the addiction to hot chocolate and your very aggressive and violent use of snow."

"What can I say, I was a bad-boy." Marco grinned up at Jean, placing a hand on the other mans knee and using it to push himself up. "Come on, lets finish the tree. Once we do that, I'll order a pizza and you can get some sleep."

Jean nodded, standing up slowly and walking towards the half decorated tree. He blinked a few times, trying to wake himself up so he could better help Marco decorate. His boyfriend wasn't helping his need for sleep by wrapping his arms around Jean's waist, the coach was incredibly easy to melt into and cuddle against, even when they were both standing.

Marco placed his chin atop Jean's head. The freckled man instructed him to place whatever ornament he liked in a gap, where the false trunk of the tree could be seen. Jean nodded, breaking out of Marco's grasp and picking up the ornaments he liked and moving towards the tree.

The two worked together, eventually both stepping back so they could get a better look at their tree. Jean was impressed. This tree was usually found on his parent's porch, covered in flashing lights that didn't complement its usually spindly design. Now, though, it looked as elegant and as beautiful as any real tree. Marco smiled, catching the look of adoration on Jean's face.

"You like it then?" He asked, Jean nodding. "Well, one more thing to do."

Jean looked to Marco, who revealed the large star that was to top the tree. He smiled and took it from his boyfriend, walking towards the tree again and leaning up. Just as he was about to place it on the top, Marco spoke again.

"You want me to hold you up?" He smirked, Jean turning around with a small pout. "What, I know it can be a little bit difficult for you short people to reach to moderately high places."

"You're like two inches taller than me." Jean grumbled.

"And don't you forget it."

Rolling his eyes, Jean reached up and placed the star at the top of the tree. He fiddled with it a for a few seconds, making sure it was straight. Once he was satisfied, he stood beside Marco and smiled. The Christmas tree looked better than he had thought it could, made even better knowing that Marco would insist the rest of his house be decorated to the same quality. Knowing his boyfriend, Jean would end up living in a Christmas grotto for the remainder of the year. That wouldn't be too bad, really.

Marco wrapped his arm around Jean's neck, squeezing his shoulder and relaxing. He was looking at the Christmas tree as well, smiling. He felt oddly warm inside, most likely because it was the first time he and Jean had decorated a tree together. Hopefully, it was the first time of many.

"Thanks for today." Jean said, Marco looking towards him. "I mean, I know you probably wanted a candle lit dinner or something more romantic or whatever, but I really liked today."

"Me too." Marco smiled, pressing his lips onto Jean's shoulder. "We should make this a tradition, decorating the tree on our anniversary. I mean, I know its not actually our anniversary today, but next year maybe."

"That'd be nice." Jean smiled.

The two fell into silence again, watching as the lights sparkled against the tinsel and reflective ornaments. The sound of a somewhat more familiar Christmas song came through Jean's speakers, it was slow but pleasant. After waiting a moment, Jean looked up towards Marco again with the smallest of blushes on his face.

"You, erm, you said 'the' tree. Like, singular." He commented, Marco looking down at him.

"I did." He was slightly hesitant in his reply.

"Well, that means they'll only be one tree that we share, right?" Jean said, choosing his words carefully. Marco nodded. "Well, it wouldn't make sense to just share a tree, especially when only one of us gets to see it often."

"I suppose it wouldn't." Marco said, smiling slightly. He hoped he was right about what he thought was happening.

"So maybe we should try sharing something else. Mainly, a place to live." Jean smiled wearily, before quickly adding. "I mean, don't feel pressures. It doesn't have to be soon or anything. Its just that we've been dating for over a year now, I think we're a pretty good couple and, y'know, this if the next logical step. Again, I don't wanna make you feel like we have to move in with each other tomorrow, but I just thought that it was the right-"

"I'd love to live with you."

When Jean looked up, Marco was smiling widely. Jean exhaled slightly in relief, glad he hadn't made a mistake. Marco seemed to sense the relief, so placed both hands on Jean's waist and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in a short, chaste kiss. When it ended, Jean looked up at Marco, still wearing a blush but smiling now.

"You really want to?" He asked, Marco grinning.

"Of course, I do." He smiled. "I mean, we stay at each other's places more often than not, and I've been looking to get out of that dingy little apartment for a while now. And, you know, there's the small fact I love you and your stupid face, and I want to see it when I wake up every morning and when I go to sleep every night."

Jean laughed slightly, playfully punching Marco's chest for the 'stupid face' comment. Marco grinned and pressed his lips onto Jean's head, grinning. Jean looked up at him, still smiling as he reached up to press his lips against Marco's again. When he pulled back, he rested his head against Marco before whispering again.

"I love you too, you big, freckled slave driver."


	3. Festive Cheer

**Chapter Three – Festive Cheer**

**~~~~~**

"Okay, I'm going to be honest with you." Jean began. "It's the last day before we break for Christmas and we're having a field trip. I know that, if I gave you some bullcrap worksheet or stupid questionnaire, nobody would do it. Half of you don't even want to be here and would rather be in bed, so would I."

Marco rolled his eyes slightly. He and Jean were standing in front of a crowd of teenagers, all from one of Jeans favourite classes. Trost was hosting its annual Christmas Market and, as Jean's class consistently made high grades in any tests he gave them, he had treated them with a field trip to enjoy the market before the weekend crowds made it unbearable. Most of the students seemed happy doing this instead of watching cheap Christmas movies or being forced to participate in online Christmas quizzes, and those that weren't would only be content if they were still asleep at home, something Jean didn't think he could convince Levi to let happen.

The group of students and teachers were standing at the entrance of the market, which had a small amount of people there already. From where they stood, they could see the wooden stalls that bordered both sides of the streets and could smell the intoxicating mixture of all the food on offer, all melding together to make a fantastic aroma that would remain throughout the day.

"So, here's the deal." Jean continued, the class obviously wanting to enter the market instead of standing around in the snow. "I won't bother you with any school stuff, but if anyone asks, you have to say I gave you a tour and told you about why the market has historical importance, and you only had an hour to shop."

The students all nodded or hummed in agreement, making Jean smile. The deal worked for him, as if he had given them work he would have been obligated to make sure they all did it. He couldn't be bothered with that.

"Great. So, have fun, don't get into any trouble and don't stray too far." Jean smiled, knowing the student's attention was slipping away. "And at one o'clock, I want you all to come to the big Christmas tree for registration. Other than that, you're free to do whatever you want."

Jean and Marco watched as all the students wandered into the market, splitting off into friendship groups and looking at the nearby market stalls. Both teachers hung back for a few moments, just in case any of the students wanted to talk to them away from the rest of the class. It was standard procedure for field trips, but neither minded.

As they watched the class, Marco intertwined Jean's fingers with his own. The two had been dating for just over three years, almost all students knowing of their relationship. Practically all the students had been supportive of them, and those that weren't seemed more uncaring about it than unaccepting. And, although they couldn't prove it, they felt partially responsible for making some of the gay students at the school more confident in coming out.

"You know," Marco spoke with a grin. "It's admirable how much effort you put into teaching. Even on the last day, you make sure the kids are constantly learning. I don't know how you do it."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Marco." Jean chuckled. "And, if I remember correctly, the only reason you came here was so you didn't have to deal with kids asking you to watch Cool Runnings instead of doing a lesson all day."

"It happens every year. They think because it's about a sport I'll be more likely to do it." Marco chuckled slightly, squeezing Jean's hand. "And that's not the only reason. I also wanted to come because it would let me spend the whole day with my boyfriend, so I can kiss him in the most romantic place in the city."

And to prove this, Marco dragged Jean in front of him, placed his hands on the other mans hips and slowly kissed him. It was soft, gentle and loving, leaving Jean with a blush on his face despite how long they had been dating. The history teacher would probably blame the redness on the cold, but Marco knew better.

After pulling away, Marco took Jean's hand again. The couple slowly began to walk into the market, standing close together and smiling. It seemed that, as they stepped onto the cobbled streets, the smell of cooked meat, crepes, beer and hot chocolate increased. That, mixed with the gentle snow falling from the sky and the heavily decorated streets, made the entire place look like the Christmas wonderland it was advertised to be.

Other than the gentle chatter of patriots and stall owners and the far off singing of a live music performance, the place was quiet. The sun was just shining through the clouds, making the place seem even more beautiful that it already was. At this, Jean pressed himself closer against Marco, who smiled.

"You've really never been here?" He asked his coach boyfriend.

"No, never had the chance." Marco smiled. "I've heard the crowds here get so busy at the weekend you can't enjoy it and I'm always working in the week."

"Could you have come before you joined the school?"

"Never thought about it. The only reason I moved here was to work, so I've never been unemployed in Trost." Marco smiled as they turned a corner, seeing a group of students buying some food from a steaming grill. "And I never thought about coming here for a day trip. The town I grew up in hosted a European market which was basically the same, only a lot smaller."

"Well, I'll have to be your guide then." Jean grinned. "Come on, I want something to eat."

Marco nodded in agreement, the small bowl of cereal he had for breakfast not having done much to satisfy his stomach. The couple walked past the grill their students were huddled around, Jean assuring him that he knew the perfect place to eat. Because Jean had claimed that, as a kid, he had gone to the market every year, Marco trusted him.

After a short walk through the maze of wooden shacks, passing by quite a few food stalls that made Marco's stomach yearn, Jean stopped in front of a stall with a hand painted sign above it advertising the 'Best Pretzels In The World'. Jean walked to the man behind the wooden counter, who smiled when he saw the couple approach. Jean glanced at the menu on the back wall, grinning when he saw both of his favourite dishes were still available.

As Jean ordered, Marco read through the menu with interest. Marco only knew of three kinds of pretzels: the warm, salted bread ones; the cinnamon, sugary ones he could always find at any shopping mall; and the small, crunchy ones that his mom always brought when she was having a house party. If the length of the menu was anything to go by, he certainly needed to brush up on his pretzel knowledge.

"Here you are." Jean grinned. "You'll love it."

Marco looked at the food Jean offered him. It was a large, steaming hot sausage with a thick, salted spiral of pretzel surrounding it, all wrapped up in a small napkin. Jean was also carrying one, though his had a large bite taken out of it. Marco brought it to his lips, taking a tentative bite at the heat of the food. After biting down, his eyes widened slightly at the taste. It was fantastic.

"I know, right." Jean grinned, swallowing the bite he had taken. "I used to insist on having them every year. Once, my mom felt sick, so we had to go early, and I couldn't get one. I threw a tantrum in the car and only stopped when my dad promised he'd make me some when we get home. They weren't as good, so I refused to eat them."

"I can't imagine that." Marco smirked slightly. "You, being particular about what you eat and drink, it's practically unthinkable."

Jean nudged Marco's side as they began to wander down the pathway of stalls. It was still quiet, Jean suspecting that his class constituted more than half the people there. As they walked, they got closer to the live band playing a song in German, so neither man could understand. The singer was good, though, and the gentle guitar and keyboard combination was certainly relaxing. The two decided to sit at one of the empty benches and watch the musicians as they ate, Jean leaning his head on Marco's shoulder.

They sat in silence, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere of the market clearing. Marco, after finishing his 'Pretzel-Dog', cleaned up his fingers and slowly began to run them through Jean's hair, looking at the sight before him.

The cobbled streets were covered in a thin, soft layer of snow. The band were all standing on a circular stage positioned in front of the large, heavily decorated Christmas tree that was also the designated meeting point for the class. It was so reflective of a Christmas card that Marco almost found it unbelievable.

"It's like a fairy tale, isn't it?" Jean murmured happily. "My mom used to tell me this is where Santa went on vacation. It made me feel bad whenever we went to the Santa's grotto, I felt like I was bothering him."

Marco laughed slightly, Jean punching him gently on the arm. They leant back against the bench, watching as the snow fell and their students wandered around. Marco eyed a large wooden stall that sold hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, marshmallows and wafers. From where he was sitting, he could just about smell the strong scent of the drink he loved. He shuffled slightly, removing his wallet from his pocket. Jean pushed his head off Marco's shoulder, looking at him with curiosity. When Marco nodded towards the stand, Jean rolled his eyes; Marco would only drink damn cocoa if he could.

Half way across the small-town square, Marco paused. Reiner was chasing Eren with a snowball in his hand, the two practically sprinting. Eren was laughing loudly, Reiner with the remnants of what looked like a snowball on his face. The teacher cringed when Reiner threw the snowball, barely missing a stall with some glass memorabilia.

"Hey." Marco raised his voice, getting both young men's attention. "If you really need to do that, do it somewhere that won't cause any trouble."

They both gave him a 'yes sir' in reply. They began to jog to the entrance of the market, where they could have as large snowball fight as they wished. Marco rolled his eyes when he saw Reiner kick a pile of snow towards Eren, obviously not realising Marco was still watching them. He wouldn't bother them again, they were just having fun. And it was Jean's class, so if they did cause any trouble it was their responsibility and he wouldn't have to deal with it.

Marco continued to walk towards the stall, leaning on it and looking over the menu to see if they had any coffee related drinks that Jean would like. As the woman who owned the shack realised he was there and Marco opened his mouth to relay his order, something struck him.

A snowball!

The teacher turned around, expecting to see one of the students he got along well with grinning at him and ready to throw another snowball at him. But the yard was exactly the same as it had been moments ago, with one key difference. Jean was now suspiciously interested in his phone.

"Excuse me." Marco smiled as he turned back to the drinks stall. "I'll be back in a moment."

Walking slowly, Marco removed the snow from his hair and bent down. He created a large snowball, tossing from hand to hand as he walked closer to Jean. With a slight grimace at being caught out, Jean looked up and smiled weakly at Marco, who grinned back at him. Watching as the compact snowball was tossed from hand to hand, Jean's grimace got larger. The second the snowball was thrown at him, Jean scrambled to the side, barely avoiding it. When he saw Marco lean down to make another snowball, Jean began to run. Marco was soon hot on his heels.

"Get back here Kirstein." Marco yelled as they passed Reiner and Eren. "You can't escape me."

* * *

"Thank you so much."

Marco smiled at the pianist of the band, handing him twenty dollars before slipping his wallet into his pocket. The musician smiled and nodded, wishing him good luck as he walked to the gaggle of teenagers that were collected in the middle of the yard. The majority of the class had arrived in front of the Christmas tree on time as Jean had asked, but a few of them had yet to arrive. Jean had taken it upon himself to find them, knowing the students well enough to be sure they had simply lost track of time instead of not attending on purpose.

It worked well for Marco, so he didn't mind.

Looking past the class, he smiled. Down one of the pathways of stalls, Jean was returning with the two missing students. The road was now covered completely in snow, which was gently falling in light flakes. With his boyfriend wrapped up in his winter clothing, going so far as to wrap a scarf around his mouth, Marco couldn't help but find the sight beautiful. At the thought, a large and goofy smile painted itself on his face.

Jean and the two students slowly returned, Marco grinning slightly at Jean. His hair was still yet after the large snowball fight the two had. Jean glared slightly at him, though it was playful. Marco was just as much a mess as Jean was.

Standing in front of the crowd, Jean clapped his hands loudly a few times to gather their attention. They all looked towards him, even though some of them still glanced down at their phones whenever they thought neither Jean nor Marco was looking. Neither teacher particularly cared, as long as they were quiet and partially listening, at least one person in each group would be listening to him.

"Okay, we need to be back on the coach at two forty-five." Jean began, speaking over the light playing of the band. "So I want you all back here at two forty at the very latest. If we're not on the bus at time because one of you is late, everyone else gets permission to pelt you with snowballs in revenge."

A few members of the crowd laughed slightly. Marco was one of them, but he was fiddling with his hands behind hi back. Thankfully, Jean was too busy looking at the class to notice his little nervous habit.

"And I'm sure you all know this already, but it's getting busier now." Jean continued. "I don't want anyone complaining to me that you've been disturbing them or just acting stupid. I know it must be difficult for you all to do, but please try and remain calm and don't cause any trouble for the rest of the day. It's only an hour and a half, it shouldn't be that hard. For most of you, anyway."

Jean sent a glance towards Eren and Reiner, both of whom looked away slightly with redness on their cheeks. When Jean looked back to the mass of students, Marco took a somewhat shaky breath and walked towards Reiner.

The coach's phone was unlocked and was opened on the camera. He made sure it was on the video mode before tapping Reiner on the shoulder. The larger student turned towards him, frowning in confusion when Marco placed his phone in his hand. When he looked at Marco for an explanation, Marco spoke quietly.

"When I take Mr Kirstein in front of the stage, film it." He demanded in a whisper, winking at the student to keep him quiet. Reiner nodded, shrugging at Bertolt in confusion.

As Jean continued to speak, Marco wandered to the back of the crowd. When walking, he nodded to the pianist on stage. The gentle, generic Christmas tune was replaced by a slow, semi-acoustic instrumental version of 'All I want For Christmas Is You.' Marco smiled at how relaxing and romantic it sounded at the slower tempo, the fact it was Jean's favourite Christmas song was an added extra that made the situation even more perfect.

Still breathing shakily, which he could blame on the cold, he plunged his hands into his pocket. His fingers began to squeeze around the small velvet box, eventually grasping it tightly for support. It filled him with a slight warming sensation.

"And if any of you haven't had anything to eat yet, please do now. It's a long bus drive and I don't want to heave any grumbling stomach all the way back." Jean grinned slightly. "And if any of you spent all your money and forgot food, please just say and I'll buy something for you. Don't abuse that power, I will know of you do. I've got snitches."

Marco continued to count to ten in his head to calm him down. The effect was nothing compared to when he opened his eyes and looked at Jean, adoration clear in his eyes. Damn that man was beautiful.

"I think that's all I need to say." Jean concluded. "Anything you want to add, Mr Bodt?"

At Jean's question, Marco was snapped out of his nervous bubble. He nodded, walking to the front of the group, Jean frowning as he wondered what else his boyfriend would want to say. As Marco walked to the front, he nudged Reiner and winked at him again. The student nodded slightly and raised Marco's phone, pointing it towards them both and filming whatever was going to happen.

Upon reaching Jean, he took the other mans hand in his own and slowly dragged him in front of the stage. It was then that Jean noticed the music the band were playing was a quiet version of the song he loved. A small bubble of nervousness grew in his stomach.

"Jean Kirstein." Marco spoke as he settled in front of the stage, voice slightly shaking. "Ever since I awkwardly asked you out in the staff lounge three years ago, I've been completely and totally enamoured with you. More so than I thought possible. I don't know what it is about you that makes me love you so much, maybe it's your sarcasm, maybe its your ridiculous rules about what constitutes as good coffee, maybe it's the fact you mock some of your students when they're not around. Probably not the last one, I only mentioned that one to annoy you, really."

The class laughed slightly, almost all of them paying complete attention to what their teachers were doing. Jean was red now, looking at Marco with a mixture of love and confusion. He was soothed by the feeling of Marco's thumbs gently running over his hands.

"But, I don't think for a second it's one thing I love. Because I love you, Jean, I love everything about you." Marco's smile was wide, a large blush on his face. "And I don't see that changing. Ever. So, there's only one thing to do really, isn't there?"

Still holding Jean's hand with his right, Marco slowly got down and buried his left knee into the snow. With his left hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box, flipping it open to reveal a silver wedding band encrusted with small, golden diamonds. The jewellery glinted in the snow.

Jean looked down at the ring. His eyes were wide, heart pumping manically and stomach flipping madly. His hand was shaking just as much as Marco's had been as his eyes moved from the beautiful ring to the beautiful man on his knee. Marco was smiling so widely and lovingly, it was impossible not to melt as he looked at his chocolate brown eyes.

"Jean Kirstein, I really love you. And I don't want to spend another day without you in my life." Marco's voice still shook, but it w as filled with so much love that it was palpable. "Will you honour me by agreeing to become my husband?"

Everyone in the class, and the small class that had also gathered, all looked at Jean for his answer. The history teacher was still looking at Marco, obviously somewhat overwhelmed by the situation he found himself in. With just a glance at his boyfriend's face, Jean knew that there was only one answer he could give. He shook slightly, all he had to do was answer Marco and the two would be engaged.

"Erm, well." His voice was shaking too, but carried the same love that Marco's had. "You know what they say about great minds."

Before Marco could ponder what Jean meant, Jean moved. He, too, planted his left knee into the snow. He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a small, leather box. Just like Marco had, he flipped the small box open to reveal a sparkling silver band, encrusted with a ring of black diamonds. Marco looked at the ring, then at Jean; he then let out a shaky chuckle, lowering his ring slightly.

"They think alike." Jean finished, smiling. "Marco, I never thought I'd meet anyone perfect for me. I didn't think it actually existed, other than in books. But meeting you, finding myself falling in love with you, I must have been an idiot. Because you are everything I've ever wanted and so much more. And now, while we're in our own little fairy tale, I can't think of a better time to ask this. Will you marry me?"

Marco laughed slightly, overwhelmed by all the emotions flowing through him. But the strongest one, the one he had only known since meeting Jean, was that of love.

"Although, you kinda screwed me over by having a better speech than me." Jean joked lightly. "Asshole."

"No, no. It was perfect. You're perfect." Marco leant forward to give Jean a slow kiss, which Jean happily returned. "You're so fucking perfect and I love you so much. And I know I just swore in front of the kids, but I'm allowed to right now."

Jean grinned and chuckled. "So, is that a yes?"

"I asked you first." Marco laughed. "But, yes, I'll definitely marry you."

"Good" Jean beamed. "And, since you did ask first, of course I'll be your husband you fucking idiot."

To the sound of applaud and cheering, the two kissed again. It was short, but the most loving and thoughtful kiss the two had ever shared. Upon pulling away, they both slid their respective rings onto the other mans fingers, looking at them both with wide, emotional smiled on their faces. The second their glances met, they kissed again, this time lingering slightly before resting their foreheads against each other.

Still being filmed by Reiner, still covered in the melted snow from their snowball fight, still on the ground, they smiled at each other.

"I love you." Jean sighed happily.

"I love you too." Marco whispered.

Unable to do anything else, they kissed to the sound of Jean's favourite song, the snow falling around them and surrounded by a mixture of everything they both found beautiful. It truly was their own little fairy tale and neither could be happy.


End file.
